


And he's sweet, and he's mean

by authordrawingmusic



Series: In Canon One Shots [1]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, Falsettos - Lapine/Finn (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Canon Compliant, During Canon, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gay Whizzer Brown, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marvin (Falsettos) Being an Asshole, Marvin is a Mess (Falsettos), POV Marvin (Falsettos), POV Third Person, POV Whizzer Brown, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slurs, Soft Marvin (Falsettos), Unhealthy Relationships, Whizzer Brown Deserves Better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:14:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21990094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authordrawingmusic/pseuds/authordrawingmusic
Summary: Just a snippet of Marvin's and Whizzer's dysfunctional relationship in Act 1.
Relationships: Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Series: In Canon One Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582960
Kudos: 41





	And he's sweet, and he's mean

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy the drama and dysfunction!

"God damn it, Whizzer!" Marvin pounded his fist on the table. Whizzer flinched. He blinked rapidly as a means of collecting himself. He frowned and glared.  
"Oh yeah, wanna throw a temper tantrum? Break some plates?" He shot up from his chair at the dining table.  
"Go aheah, see if I care. You're gonna be the one to clean up. I'm not your bitch, Marvin!"  
Marvin's words caught in his throat for just a moment, in surprise at Whizzer's tone. Just a moment. How did he fucking dare talking to him like that?  
"Oh, you're not my bitch? Do fucking tell. How about you try being the bread winner and paying for all this." He gestured wildly around himself, at all their things. His things. He had bought them, with his money.  
"That's always the ace up your sleeve, isn't it? I didn't ask to be your housewife!" 

Whizzer walked away from the table, not even looking at him. The guts of him, to be so disrespectful towards him.  
"Well you're not too keen on getting a job, now are you?" Marvin crossed his arms and followed him. He didn't remember what had made him mad in the first place, but that didn't matter now, now did it?  
Whizzer clapped. "And there you brought it up again."  
"Do you not want to get a job? Or do people just not want to hire you, because it's so obvious you're a fucking fag."  
Whizzer stared at him wide eyed. Marvin sucked in air. Whizzer's face was wiped clean of any emotion. Marvin's stomach dropped.  
"Whizzer, you know I didn't-" Marvin was interrupted, too overwhelmed with what to do and the throbbing pain of his hand to care about that.  
"I'm going out. Don't wait up." Whizzer turned to the coat rack. 

He grabbed his leather jacket, keys and wallet and walked out the door. Marvin knew what would happen. It always happened when Whizzer walked out on him.  
"Go ahead! Have fun screwing whatever guy ends up making eyes at you."  
Whizzer just tossed a last hateful glance over his shoulder, a twisted grimace between a snarl and patronizing smile to accompany it.  
"Don't worry, I will. That's what a fag like me does best after all." His voice was quiet, terrifyingly so. It made a stark contrast to the sound of the door slamming shut, which almost matched Marvin slamming his fist on the table in regards to volume.  
Marvin sank against the nearest wall. The argument had really sapped his scarce energy reserves entirely. He prodded his injured hand with the other to assess the damage. Not as bad as other times. He'd live. 

Whizzer huffed as he walked to the nearest gay bar to pick up the next best thing. He just wanted to not think right now. Marvin had really done it. That had been low, even for him. Whizzer had expected many things when he noticed that Marvin had had a bad day.  
He'd anticipated shouting. He'd expected to have to buy new plates. But the one thing that he hadn't expected was Marvin to call him a fag. It wasn't unusual for Marvin to resort to homophobic shit by any means. Whether it was about him and his kind, as Marvin liked to phrase it. He would point every little detail about him that was too flamboyant or just very obviously queer about him and take him apart, tell him how wrong he was for being the way he was. 

That shit hurt, of course it did. But nothing knocked the air out of his lungs quite as effectively as Marvin, his lover, calling him a fag.  
That therapist guy Marvin's ex was married to, he'd said something during a failed attempt at a failed family dinner. He'd gotten inappropriately wine drunk and started analyzing the psyche of him and Marvin present at the table. He'd started with Marvin, pointing out his anger issues and everything else, sharing private information that should have never left his office.  
Before that though, he mumbled on about how people looked for their parents' traits in a partner? Well, he wasn't wrong about that. Marvin shouting abuse at him made for a terrifying resemblance of his dad, the asshole. It hurt, but was comfortingly familiar in a twisted way. 

So he arrived at the bar, ordered himself a drink and made eyes at guys, inviting them to come up to him and talk to him. He went through eight guys, flirted with them, deciding whether he wanted them or not. Three of them bought him a drink and soon enough he decided on a guy.  
He turned up his charm and within the span of twenty minutes, he stumbled in and out of the restroom, fresh hickeys peppered alongside his neck and collarbones.  
He always made sure he got hickeys on nights like this. On nights where Marvin simply crossed a line. Usually a hickey would be the result of an accidental moment of horniness, which he'd hide as best as he could. But tonight wasn't one of those nights. The mere thought of Marvin seeing those marks, the pain in his eyes, it brought a sick satisfaction.  
He may feel a twinge of guilt, but that little twinge of guilt was drowned out by his pettiness and desire to see Marvin hurt. 

It was sick, it was mean, and it was not the right thing to do. But Whizzer had never been a man known to do the right thing. He was one of those people you went to when you were trying to make mistakes that meant a fun time. And that's pretty much what he was. A fun time full of mistakes. But somehow despite his intelligence Marvin still hadn't grasped that very simple concept.  
Whizzer sipped at yet another cocktail at the bar. Men seemed to be in a generous mood tonight. And his level of drunk definitely called for him to be grateful for it. Booze and sex meant distraction, it meant excitement and, first and foremost, it meant fun and feeling good.  
Feeling happy with himself, Whizzer grabbed his stuff and stumbled home the safest route he knew, the route where the likelyhood of being beaten to a pulp for being too queer-looking was the slimmest. 

Marvin had waited for Whizzer to come home, drinking beer upon beer in the mean time. But at some point he got tired, he always did. Just when he laid down to sleep, he heard the door slam shut. There it was. Marvin debated whether he should pretend to be asleep and make a scene. The alcohol coursing through his veins ended up making the decision for him. He dragged himself out of bed and stumbled into the hallway of their shared apartment.  
"Did you have fun?" Marvin slurred his taunting remark, staring down Whizzer's back. "Was he good?"  
"Not now Marvin." Whizzers voice was unusually quiet, but Marvin didn't notice. He was too angry and drunk for that.  
"Not now, not later, not every. You keep running off and fucking the next best thing. You're such a man whore, it would almost be funny if it weren't this goddamn pathetic." 

"Marvin, not now." Whizzer spoke slowly and quietly, still facing away from him. Why the fuck wasn't he looking at him. Marvin deserved Whizzer looking him in the fucking eyes if he was already being such a whore.  
"Will you fucking look at me, Whizzer?" Whizzer might have flinched, but if he did Marvin neither noticed nor cared. He grabbed Whizzer by the shoulders and turned him around by force.  
Marvin's blood ran cold before he felt a different kind of rage bubbling up inside him. Whizzer's bottom lip was split, not unlike his right brow. But Marvin barely noticed either wound, way too shocked by the painful looking bruise on his left cheekbone. His pastel shirt had one button hanging loose and several patches of dirt on it.  
He'd kill him. Whoever did this to Whizzer, he'd kill him with his bare fucking hands. He was still furious at Whizzer, but he'd be damned if he let that asshole get away with hurting his lover. 

"Who did this?" His voice was low and he could feel his heart pound from anger.  
"Can we not talk about this?" Whizzer still wasn't looking him in the eye, but now it didn't make him angry. "I'm tired."  
"How did this happen?" Marvin took a step towards him, wanting to put a comforting hand on his arm. Before his hand got even remotely close however, Whizzer backed away and his back quickly met the front door. He winced visibly, making Marvin furrow his brow.  
Whizzer shook his head "I just wanna go to bed."  
He couldn't just leave him without an answer. "But-"  
"Marvin, please!" Whizzer's voice wavered with his eyes wide and shiny, mouth in a tight line that must have been painful with his split lip. "Just- don't."  
Marvin nodded and swallowed hard, going back to bed. "Good night, then." 

Whizzer dragged himself into the bathroom. Taking off his dirty shirt, he studied his body in the mirror to see the damage these assholes had left him with. His hair was a heavily tangled mess from writhing around on the pavement as they kicked him in the stomach.  
There were scuff marks on his arms. He'd had to use his arms to keep these bastards from nearly kicking his ribcage in. He felt up his head, dimly remembering his head hit the ground when receiving the punch to his cheekbone. And- Fuck, there it was. He winced as he found the very sore spot.  
After making sure he wasn't bleeding anywhere, Whizzer slowly made his way to the shower.  
Soon enough he was showered and went to bed, joining an already asleep Marvin. He hadn't necessarily wanted to come back, but where else could he go? Careful not to wake Marvin yet again he lied down on his half of the king sized bed, facing away from Marvin. 

Nowhere near the brink of sleep, Whizzer felt movement and heard the mattress creak behind him. Then he felt an arm around his middle. Ouch. He hissed at the stinging pain. The arm around his waist loosened until he was comfortable again. Despite not wanting to come back here, Marvin was still a comforting presence. Marvin was an asshole, but he was also a home when Whizzer didn't have one.  
"What happened?", Marvin whispered into his ear.  
Flashes of what had happened less than an hour ago squeezed the air out of Whizzer's lungs. His stomach turned thinking about it, but it wouldn't go away. He felt his shaky breath become quicker and at some point he felt as if it was someone else breathing.  
"Shhhhhhh." Marvin very lightly traced his thumb along Whizzer's upper arm before intertwining their hands. "Baby, you're okay. You're safe now." 

Marvin kept whispering reassurances and Whizzer didn't believe a word of it. He wanted to believe him, but how could he if Marvin could blow up at him at any moment? Still, he chose to accept Marvin's lies for now and nodded. Even if what Marvin whispered in his ear wasn't true, he was too exhausted to disagree.  
Whizzer sighed and wiggled his way backwards until his back met Marvin's chest. The latter began peppering kisses along his neck, pausing for just a moment. Whizzer tended up. The hickeys. He prayed that Marvin would just let it be. While his original intention had in fact been to piss Marvin off, he really couldn't handle more of Marvin's shouting right now.  
But Marvin just resumed placing small kisses on Whizzer's neck without a word or comment about it. In between the kisses Marvin shushed him, telling him everything was alright.


End file.
